III
A few minutes before seven I came down-stairs into the bright lobby of my hotel. Parker, the ship’s doctor, whose cabin Drew and I had shared on the way across, was lolling in a chair. He rose and came toward me, a handsome devil in evening clothes—indubitably handsome, indubitably a devil.
“All dolled up,” he said.
“Going to a birthday party,” I answered.
“Great Scott! You don’t mean you’re invited to old Drew’s shindig?”
“Why shouldn’t I be invited?” I asked.
“I know—but you and the old man—deadly enemies.”
“Not at all. He rather likes me.
46
